


Never Too Broken

by fingalsanteater



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Sex, Angst, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, M/M, Nightmares, References to Canon, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/pseuds/fingalsanteater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back on Babylon 5 after the murder of Cartagia and the end of the Shadow War, Vir's nightmares and fears get the better him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Too Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Set during season 4 episode 7, "Epiphanies." 
> 
> The fanon terms "brachiarti" and "brach" are used in this.

Vir had hoped returning to Babylon 5 would help. That his nightmares would fade, his fears and memories would be stretched thin by time and distance until they crumbled into dust. He'd sweep them up into a small corner of his mind and he'd forget G'Kar's scream, he'd forget the look on Cartagia's face when the needle pierced him, he'd forget the desperation in Londo's voice when he begged him to do the impossible.  
  
Still, every night, Vir wakes up, sick and sweating. It isn't enough that he has to live with the memory of standing helpless while G'Kar is whipped, so, sometimes, he dreams he was there when they scraped G'Kar's eye from its socket. Vir's picked up a habit of drinking to fill his head with a buzz. It's almost enough to drown out the screams.  
  
The good dreams are the ones in which the Vorlons just kill them all. In those, after the pain of death subsides, Vir floats in a darkness that is almost comforting. He wakes with his whole body tingling, soft staticky pinpricks tickling his skin. It isn't wholly unpleasant, even if it is unsettling. He doesn't sleep again on those nights, but he doesn't drink either.  
  
The worst dreams are the ones where he feels Londo's blood slick and hot on his hands, where he feels a blade rest heavy in his fingers. Or, where he feels his hands wrapped firmly around Londo's throat as he strangles the life out of him. Or, sometimes, it's Londo he pierces with the poisoned needle instead of Cartagia.  He's seen Londo die so many times in his dreams by now he thinks he ought to be numb to that particular horror.  
  
Yet, it goes like this every time: Vir wakes up wanting desperately to catch Londo before he can fall, but he's always too late. He's sick instead.  
  
Washing the taste of vomit out of his mouth with cheap brivari, Vir sits in the dark and tries to quell the panic that threatens to rise. Nights like these, he wants to see Londo. Just to make sure it really was just a dream.  
  
Tonight, though, Londo comes to him.  
  
Vir is raising his tumbler to drink when the door chimes. Startled, he slops brivari over his hand and wrist just as Londo steps in without invitation. Raising the lights, Londo startles in turn to see Vir sitting on the settee.  
  
"Surely you aren't that drunk, Vir," he says, eyes landing on the amber stain on Vir's hand and sleeve. His remark is strangely subdued, and Vir eyes Londo warily, noting he looks just as exhausted as Vir feels.  
  
Vir stutters, "N-no, no. You just surprised me, is all." He's beyond relieved to see Londo standing there, however unexpected it is. This isn't the first time he's ever shown up in Vir's quarters in the middle of the night, but it is the first time he's shown up and not immediately set Vir to some task. A midnight social call from Londo is both worrisome and oddly enticing in its abnormality.  
  
"Well, don't just sit there, Vir. Pour me some." He shrugs out of his coat and takes a seat beside Vir's place on the settee. As he pours a second tumbler of brivari at the counter, Vir waits for Londo to relax into the cushions, but he stays taut. Tonight, Vir can tell the worry, guilt and fear Londo carries is coiled tight.  
  
Vir wants to unwind him.  
  
"Here," he says, pressing the cool tumbler in Londo's hand, letting his fingers brush warm skin. Vir settles in next to him, too close maybe, but he relishes the comfort it brings.  
  
Londo takes a long drink, but after swallowing grouses, "Blech! This is terrible. Where did you dredge this up from?"  
  
Vir shrugs, but smiles at the normalcy of Londo's reaction to cheap drink. "It does the job," he says matter-of-factly, and holds out his tumbler in toast.  
  
"That it does," says Londo, mirroring him. He knocks back the rest of his tumbler.  
  
They drink in silence for a while, because neither of them wants to talk, to give any more thought to their nightmares, to give their fears life by speaking them aloud.  
  
Eventually, Vir feels himself leaning into Londo, his equilibrium off from too much to drink. Londo lets Vir rest his head on his shoulder, surprisingly without complaint. He is warm, the scent of him comforting. He feels alive.  
  
Eyelids sliding shut, Vir starts to relax into him, to let his exhaustion and intoxication lull him into a pleasant unconsciousness. However, the heavy weight of Londo's worries is evident in the tense bunch of his shoulders and rigid posture and Vir can't get comfortable if Londo isn't.  
  
"I saw G'Kar today," he says suddenly, a rush of words that tumbles from his lips in a way that seems almost accidental.  
  
Vir doesn't move, doesn't respond. He squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees white spots blooming in the darkness behind his eyelids. A horrible iciness crackles through him when he thinks about G'Kar; a dreadful gelid burn that moves slowly through his veins. He doesn't like to think about G'Kar if he can help it.  
  
Londo takes a drink and continues, "He said..." He pauses and takes a deep breath, steeling himself for something unpleasant. "He told me that 'I no longer exist in his universe.'" There's a bitterness that seeps into the words, sticks to them, tacky like drying blood. Blood is all they have between them-- blood and death and pain. Vir doesn't know what Londo wants from G'Kar.  
  
"I would think you'd be pleased, Londo," murmurs Vir sleepily against Londo's shoulder.  
  
Londo sighs, a deep, aching sound, sharp and broken, that cuts through to Vir's hearts.  
  
"Yes, that would've been true. Before."  
  
Vir can't help but latch onto the way Londo says "before," soft and fragile. He knows Londo means before Centauri Prime, before... everything that happened. It's more than just that, though, Vir can feel it in the way Londo tenses when he questions, "Before?"  
  
"Before..." He pauses for several long seconds, either contemplating whether to reveal his thoughts or just choosing his words carefully.  
  
"Never mind, Vir," he says finally, sounding frustrated. This is obviously something Londo is going to keep pushing down and ignoring as long as he can. Vir's not sure he wants to be there when Londo succumbs to this particular worry.  
  
A thick, heavy silence settles over them and Vir feels himself drifting, neither awake nor asleep, Londo's even breathing soothing him. Londo doesn't move for a long time, but just when Vir thinks he might be asleep, Londo shifts, finishing his drink. Knowing the glass is now empty, Vir reluctantly opens his eyes and moves to refill, but Londo stops him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back against him. He takes Vir's unfinished drink and downs it, then sets both glasses on the low table in front of them.  
  
"That's enough, I think," he says, his voice rough and strange.  
  
Vir feels soft around the edges, muzzy with intoxication and exhaustion. He's pressed up against Londo's side, almost on his lap, the closeness an intoxicating feeling all its own. Always quite a tactile person, Vir doesn't think much of it when Londo turns and takes his chin in his hand. It's always been "Let me get a look at you, Vir," or "You've ink on your face, Vir."  
  
Londo's thumb and fingers press softly into the skin of his jaw and Vir feels lost, adrift in the raw intensity of his gaze. There's the thoughtful sort of sadness present in Londo's eyes that Vir is used to seeing when he really looks, and Vir can't look away, but he doesn't want to see anymore. Londo drops his hand after what feels like an eternity, seeming like he wants to say something. Vir doesn't want to hear what he has to say when he's looking so maudlin. He closes his eyes and gently tips his head forward, pressing his forehead against Londo's before he can start talking. Londo's breath hitches, just a soft gasp of surprise.  
  
There's a lazy swirl of warmth and comfort twisting itself down Vir's arms and spine. He's smoothing his hands over Londo's shoulders, Londo's hands are grasping at his waist, Vir's breath catching in his throat. It's a heady feeling, this weighty, quiet closeness. It's more than that.  
  
The soft, twisting warmth turns to fire licking through him when Londo says his name, "Vir," low and like a warning Vir will not heed. Londo never heeded his warnings.  
  
The first brush of their lips is tentative, like they aren't sure this is a good idea. It's not, but Londo pulls Vir closer regardless. He opens to Vir and moans into his mouth in a way that feels and sounds so desperate that Vir almost pushes him away because this is not what either of them need. But, Londo's tongue is stroking his, the wet heat of their mouths making Vir's brachiarti swell and ache with the need for release. He melts into the kiss instead.  
  
One of Londo's hands is softly gripping the back of his neck, fingers stroking lightly, while the other is fisted tightly at the laces of his nightshirt, and Vir realizes he really does want this, however ill-advised it may be. Londo's made enough bad decisions for the both of them, it's Vir's turn to do something he might regret. It's an unkind thought, though, and Vir gently rubs his thumbs at either edge of Londo's jaw to make up for the guilt that briefly washes over him.  
  
Londo's got his hands at the hem of Vir's shirt and they break their kiss to pull it off.  His brach are sticky against his chest. Vir gasps when Londo brushes his fingers against the tip of one. It wraps around Londo's wrist and the wet head presses into his palm. Londo squeezes lightly and then pulls back a bit. Watching raptly, his breath quickening in anticipation, Londo brings one of Vir's brach to his mouth. The first flick of Londo's tongue elicits a gasp. When Londo starts sucking, Vir can't help but moan deeply, almost embarrassingly so. His eyes sink shut automatically, fluttering open just long enough to spot a slight smile on Londo's face. It makes Vir's hearts soar to see Londo's haunted look diminished. Never gone, but still. It's progress.  
  
Londo is rubbing his thumb over the head of another of Vir's brach, the other four are rubbing against Londo's still clothed torso. Vir is fumbling with the buttons of Londo's waistcoat, wanting desperately to touch skin, but every time Londo sucks Vir's fingers slip. He could come from just this, but he wants more.  
  
"Londo, wait," he says, breathless. He just wants a reprieve from Londo's wicked tongue to get him out of his waistcoat and shirt, but the dark look that shudders across Londo's face makes Vir regret he said anything at all.  
  
He sneers and says, "I was wondering when you would come to your senses, Vir," but his voice sounds curiously brittle and raw, like an old wound torn open again. Vir stares into his pale eyes in horror, wishing he could just take back the last minute. Londo starts to untangle himself, the sudden change in mood helps by dousing Vir's arousal. Pushing up from the settee, Londo is almost out of reach and Vir struggles with what to say to get him to stay.  
  
"Londo, wait," he repeats desperately. "I wanted..." he starts, and watches as something that looks a little like hope flickers across Londo's face. Pity surges up like bile in his throat, but he swallows it down and it sinks like a stone in his belly. He  doesn't want to pity Londo, not when they are doing... this, so he covers up the feeling with the last of his waning arousal and his reckless desire for Londo to stay. Gods, and he's sobered up some now, so he can't even completely blame his sudden need on brivari clouding his judgment.  
  
Awkwardly, Vir continues, "Let's go to bed?"  
  
Londo is impassive, mouth a grim slash of crimson, lips swollen from kissing. His skin is delicately pale in the artificial light, his cheeks pinked from alcohol and arousal. Vir wants to kiss him again. Instead he waits for an answer.  
  
"You are even more stupid than I thought, then," Londo finally says, voice tight and choked.  
  
It's not anything Vir hasn't heard before, especially when Londo is hurt and feeling vulnerable, but this time Vir can't just shrug off the insult. He does feel stupid, sitting there half-dressed, half-drunk, and less than half-aroused, brach retracted but still slightly swollen. It's stupid of him to want Londo in this way when he's never harbored any sexual feelings for him, to want to kiss him and feel him alive in his arms and... oh.  
  
Alive. The word is beating a tattoo in his head, a strange rhythm that leaves him breathless. Realization spreads, a quiet clarity of mind settling through him like disturbed particulate filtering down through calm water.    
  
Vir's been silent and contemplative for too long, trying to examine the motes of stray thoughts as they settle. Londo's derisive expression slowly becomes stricken in the long silence and he turns to get his coat. Vir's dwindling confusion and revelation has not quelled his desire in the least; it's strengthened it into an low burn and a resolve to finish what they've started. And, he can't let Londo leave like this, upset and hurt, besides.  
  
In this small room it only takes a few steps to grab Londo's arm.  
  
"Take your hands off me," he says, sounding more startled than angry. He's got one arm in the sleeve of his coat, and Vir's hand prevents him from finishing dressing.  
  
Vir is feeling rather brave when he blurts "No." He gulps and continues quickly, "I want you to stay, Londo. Please." Londo turns to face him, eyes wide. Taking his face in hands, Vir kisses him, runs his tongue over his lower lip, strokes a thumb over the bone of his cheek. Londo doesn't open to him like before, but, much to Vir's relief, he does kiss back.  
  
Vir kisses up Londo's jaw, and asks again, "Will you stay?"  
  
Like a sigh, Londo replies, "Yes."  
  
Vir pushes the coat back off his shoulder, helps Londo shrug out of it. Taking Londo's hand in his, he leads him across the small main room to the even smaller bedroom.  
  
Finally, finally, Londo strips off his waistcoat and shirt, and lays them over the arm of the chair crammed in the corner of the room. Vir eagerly pulls off the rest of his night clothes, leaving them pooled on the floor. When Londo sits on the end of the bed to take his boots off, Vir slips to the floor and to his knees in front of him.  
  
He's pulled off Londo's boots before, just not while Londo's brach are trying to tangle with his. One brach leaves a wet smear over his jaw on its way to his mouth. Vir licks, just as Londo had done for him earlier. He's pleased to hear a sharp inhalation of breath when he sucks the tapered tip into his mouth, the sound making arousal spark along his spine. His own brach ache to feel the heat of Londo's mouth.  
  
Kneeling between Londo's thighs, Vir tackles his belt and buttons of his trousers. It takes longer than he wants because Londo is making things difficult. Three of Londo's brach are caressing his own, occasionally making him moan around the one in his mouth when the right amount of pressure is applied. The other two brach are on either side of his hips, then sliding down between his legs in a way that is wholly distracting and startling.  
  
Vir's not very experienced, this is his first time even using six, but he does know that what is between his legs is not traditionally associated with sex.  
  
"Londo, what are--" the flat of both brach encase his canalicula in a wonderful wet heat. Overcome with a strange pleasure, Vir can't even begin to choke out the rest of his question.  
  
"What am I doing, hmm?" Londo finishes for him, smirking.  
  
"Yes," he manages to gasp just before Londo brings one of Vir's brach to his mouth.  
  
Londo licks the edge of his brach, up the tip, then rubs his thumb up the trail his tongue had taken.  
  
"It feels good, yes?" Londo's brach squeeze around it again and if Vir weren't already on his knees, he'd be there now. He's forgotten the brach he was sucking, too busy trying to remember to breath; it idly traces Vir's lips as Londo continues talking.  
  
"I can tell by the look on your face--" each word is punctuated by a stroke or kiss or squeeze to some part of Vir's body that makes him want to melt into the floor "--that this is not a pleasure in which you've ever indulged." Londo is rather smug about it, which is much better than melancholy, but now Vir wants to make that smirking mouth slack with ecstasy. Swiping his tongue across the brach tracing his mouth, he smiles when Londo moans softly.  
  
Vir's gripped his hands at the waist of Londo's trousers, but he can't get them off if Londo won't cooperate, which he doesn't seem inclined to do just this moment. He's tired of kneeling on the floor, though; it's taking all his concentration just to stay upright. Legs feeling like flarn, Vir manages to shakily push up from the floor in an attempt to crawl into bed.  
  
His knees almost buckle when Londo's brach wrap harder around the sensitive spot between his legs. They rub firmly, the wetness seeping from the pores of his brach lending a pleasant slipperiness that makes Vir's mouth fall open in a half-sigh, half-groan.  
  
"Not everyone is as responsive to this--" waves of pleasure wash through him as Londo's brach continue to slide against him "-- as you are, Vir."  
  
Hands on Londo's shoulders, Vir finds himself looking down into Londo's eyes. He looks exceptionally vulnerable at this angle, and an overwhelming tenderness wells up in Vir. He leans down to kiss him, licks into his mouth. A frisson of arousal cascades through him at the taste of himself on Londo's lips and Vir can't get enough.  
  
Londo lets himself be pressed back into bed, says smugly "Eager, aren't we, Vir," as Vir wriggles off his trousers. Vir sucks at the brach teasing his mouth in response. Sliding one leg in between Londo's thighs, half straddling him, their brach rearrange and retangle to account for the new position.  
  
Londo hisses sharply through his teeth when Vir tentatively presses a brach against his canalicula.  
  
"That's it, Vir," he gasps, arching his hips."I'm not so delicate. You can be a bit less gentle, yes. H-ah-harder." His brach presses more firmly, and Londo reacts in much the same way Vir did, his mouth falling open, eyes rolling back.  
  
Feeling fuzzy, Vir too is awash in pleasure and something that still feels like disbelief, like a dream. Londo's brach on him, around him, are anchoring him, six hot points of bliss cutting through the haze.  
  
There's a building urgency between them; a friction, a heat trickles down Vir's spine, unfurling, flowing out to the very tips of his brach where they are tangled with Londo's, where they are slipping hot and sticky against his skin. Starbursts of overwhelming pleasure take him by complete surprise, the sensation radiating through him. He sags, spent, against Londo and mouth finding Londo's and he's tasting brivari and sweat, he's swallowing moans as Londo comes too. They kiss lazily in the after-glow; Vir's ears are ringing, leaving a strange buzz in his head that makes all that happened feel even more surreal.  
  
Londo doesn't make any comments, snide or salacious, as Vir rolls into the empty space beside him. That in itself is troubling, but Vir isn't sure what to say to fill the awkward silence. Not knowing what to say has never stopped him before.  
  
"Londo, I..." he begins, hoping the rest of what he wants to say will come to him. It doesn't. Londo regards him incredulously with one raised brow.  
  
"Don't ruin it, Vir, with laudations or, Maker forbid, apologies," he says bitterly. "Just go to sleep."  
  
Vir expects him to stay, but Londo's got two feet planted on the floor before Vir even registers he's leaving.  
  
For the second time that night, he asks, "Stay?"  
  
"Great Maker, Vir." There's the typical fondness and exasperation that makes Vir smile into the pillows he's currently burrowing into.  
  
Londo settles back into bed with a sigh. He's warm, pressed against Vir's side, their fingers brushing slightly. Vir listens for the deep, even breaths that indicate Londo is asleep, but they never come. Eventually, exhaustion over takes him and he falls into deep, dreamless sleep.  
  
He wakes much later, feeling sticky, wrung out and still exhausted. Stretching his arm across the bed, Vir expects to find Londo still sleeping, but his hand encounters nothing but cold, rumpled sheets and empty air. Sighing, he sprawls across the empty space, and begins to nod back off.  
  
It's early yet, but a jolt of anxiety shocks him awake. He's wide-eyed and realizing that, yes, he had sex with Londo. He groans pitifully into the bedspread, nervous churning in his stomach. What if Londo hates him? Or worse, fires him?  
  
It is not unusual for Centauri males of equal social standing to have sex with one another. Traditionally, sex between equals strengthens and maintains inter-house bonds; since Centauri, like many races, are vulnerable during and after sex, it fosters a sense of trust between men in society where assassination is also a tradition. But, Vir is not Londo's equal, and, traditionally, sex between those unequal means something very different-- typically a show of power by the one of higher social standing. But, because Vir initiated, it could be taken as sign that he is trying to garner favor and ascend to a higher social strata. Which is ridiculous, and Vir knows Londo would think it's ridiculous as well. He thinks. He hopes.  
  
No point to squirming around in bed and contemplating all the ways it could go wrong, however. He made his choice and now he would take any consequence in stride. Vir gets up and washes and dresses, hands shaking only slightly as he buttons his shirt. He stares at the two empty glasses and half-empty bottle of brivari on the table and attempts to eat something. He gives up when he can't swallow past the lump in his throat.  
  
This morning, the walk to Londo's quarters isn't as long as he wishes it were. Still, he drags out those few steps down the hall as long as he can. Regret, as familiar to him as the constant hum of the station, is a dull, nebulous ache in the back of Vir's mind; but, he doesn't regret the choice he made-- not completely. They've suffered through much together, redefined their relationship and what they meant to each other many times. Vir's afraid their indiscretion may result in an irrevocable strain.  
  
He's not sure what last night meant to Londo, however, and that scares him. They both weren't drunk enough to blame it on the brivari. Vir hopes it wasn't just loneliness on Londo's part, but he can't be sure. Not that wanting to feel Londo alive after being wracked with nightmares of his death is a much better reason. As much as Vir loves him, he doesn't particularly harbor any sexual or romantic feelings for Londo. Nothing like poor Lennier feels for Delenn. (Lennier has never told Vir this, but it's obvious even to him.)  
  
Lingering in the corridor at Londo's door, fingers worrying the edges of his sleeves, he briefly considers ringing the bell. Londo's used to him barging in, though, and it'd be out of the ordinary not to. If he wants their relationship to remain the same, he should act like nothing's changed.  
  
He lingers a minute longer, wringing his hands and trying to settle the anxious roil under his skin, before palming the door open. Londo's sitting at the table, dressed for the day in black and purple, papers spread out in front of him.  
  
"Ah, Vir, good. You're here," he says, shifting slightly and beckoning Vir with a crook of his finger. "Come read this-- this drivel. I haven't the time nor patience for it any longer." He's looking at the paper in his hand and not at Vir; eyes narrowed at the words on the page. He's using the page as a shield, feigning concentration until his mask is firmly in place. It's taking longer than normal.  
  
"Yes," says Vir, trying not to think of Londo's soft, desperate sigh against his lips. "You have a meeting with the Gaim ambassador in an hour. Then a meeting with Centauri Traders Organization at..."  
  
"I know, Vir." Londo cuts him off, exasperated, with a wave of the paper in his hand. It swishes loudly through the air and Vir pauses, snapping his mouth shut.  
  
He drops the paper he's clutching and it flutters into the scattered pile on the table. "Which is why I have no time for this," Londo says, standing and straightening his coat. "Read them, and when I get back, you can summarize and I can sign, yes?" Mask slipping, a gentleness permeates his voice that sets Vir's hearts fluttering.  
  
Nodding and swallowing, Vir feels the lump in his throat start to dissolve. Londo is out the door before Vir can utter a proper response. Vir plops down in chair Londo vacated, arms hanging lax at his sides, the skittery anxiousness under his skin beginning to settle. As he straightens the documents Londo's made a mess of, his worry softens further with the normality of the task.  
  
---  
  
 

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious, a canalicula is basically the Centauri version of a clitoris, as well as their urethra. Yes, I stole a Latin word and gave them a clit. I actually have a decently elaborate headcanon regarding this particular facet of Centauri anatomy. The morbidly curious can ask me about it in the comments or hit me up elsewhere. 
> 
> Thanks to Amatara for prodding me into actually fleshing out my originally very bare bones idea.


End file.
